Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 232: Frayed Restraint

Their agreement yesterday had been clear.

Cecilia would help him hide the truth. She would help him control Sienna’s movements, ensure that nothing leaked, that the nightmare of what his sister had done remained buried where it belonged.

Arkai couldn’t deny that he was still worried. The headmaster’s own investigation loomed like a sword over his neck. But Cecilia, for reasons she hadn’t explained, seemed confident she could convince the man to stop.

What power did she hold over the top individual of the Athenaeum?!

Had she saved the world or something?

"Good morning, President."

The voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. Cecilia walked past him, close enough that he caught her scent, that familiar, maddening warmth, and her smile was serene, untroubled, as if yesterday had never happened.

"Goomo—"

Arkai felt his tongue fail. The word came out garbled, incomprehensible, a sound that should never have escaped the mouth of the Dawnoro heir.

But before he could fix it, before he could salvage any shred of dignity, she was already gone. Melted into the crowd like mist, leaving him standing there with his face burning and his heart pounding and his tongue still tied in knots.

Pull yourself together!

He had a job to do. A conference to run. Responsibilities that didn’t care about his personal chaos.

The schedule for the day was tight.

First, a tour of the demonstration booths with the visiting dignitaries, heads of academies from across the continent, their eyes assessing, judging the Athenaeum by every detail. Two hours of small talk and careful navigation, ensuring each guest felt valued without slighting any other.

Next, a talk with the conference committee. Reviews of the first day, adjustments for the second, crisis management for the inevitable small disasters that cropped up when you gathered hundreds of young mages in one place.

After that, judging the afternoon’s competitive demonstrations. Three hours of watching students push their limits, scoring their performances, maintaining the appearance of absolute impartiality while his mind screamed about everything else.

Finally, another round of small talk, another round of smiling and nodding and being perfect.

When lunch finally arrived, Arkai escaped.

He walked away from the hall and retreated toward the student council office.

The wall had been fixed.

Of course it had. The Athenaeum had dozens of skilled mages, at least some of them knew spells for restoration and repair. The hole he had punched through was now seamless, as if it had never existed.

He was reaching for the door when two familiar figures blocked his path.

Nikolas Delanivis. Ruby Vaiva.

Wonderful.

"President, good work." Nikolas’s greeting was polished, appropriate, the kind of empty courtesy that filled conference corridors.

"Good work." Arkai nodded. "What’s wrong?"

"T-there’s nothing wrong, President." Ruby’s voice was soft, hesitant. "Just... just now, my junior from the sophomore year asked me to ask you where Sienna could be. She’s supposed to be participating in the conference, right? I guess they’re worried."

Sienna.

He kept his face neutral, his voice steady.

"Sienna caught a cold yesterday. Nothing serious, but I brought her home last night." The lie came easily, practiced. "Tell them I’m sorry for the worry. I didn’t think to inform her friends when I took her home."

"Oh!" Ruby’s eyebrows rose, her expression bright with manufactured concern. "That’s why you were leaving so urgently yesterday. We thought something serious had happened."

Nosy. This girl was annoyingly, persistently nosy.

"Umm, come to think of it..." Ruby’s voice dropped, still innocent, still probing. "Weren’t you and Miss Araceli stuck in the student council room a few days ago? Have you found out who did it yet, President?"

Arkai’s pause was pointed. Deliberate. A clear signal that the question was unwelcome.

"No."

He answered in a single word, like a door slamming shut.

But Ruby pressed on, her act of innocence so thick it was almost suffocating. "Was Miss Araceli... alright?"

"Why don’t you ask her yourself?"

Arkai’s voice was cold now, impatient. The question snapped back at her like a whip, and Ruby flinched awkwardly.

"Uhh... as you know... Miss Araceli doesn’t like me that much." Her sad smile was perfectly calibrated, designed to evoke sympathy.

Without a beat, he said, "I can see why."

Arkai turned and walked away. He didn’t even look back to see their effect. Didn’t care to.

"...eh?"

Ruby’s soft exclamation followed him, barely audible. She turned to watch him go, taking in the broad lines of his back, the easy confidence of his stride.

Then she turned to Nikolas.

He was frowning at Arkai’s retreating figure, but it wasn’t the frown of anger or indignation. It was discomfort. Simple, pathetic discomfort.

When he turned, he was a bit surprised to see her upset.

"Don’t be disheartened, Ruby." His voice was placating. "The President is just that kind of person."

He didn’t even defend her!

Nikolas had just let another man speak to her like that, had let Arkai Dawnoro dismiss her, insult her, walk away, and he had done nothing?!

Why? He would burn other men to the ground for less. He would rage, threaten, destroy anyone who looked at her wrong.

But not Arkai Dawnoro?

Just because Arkai Dawnoro’s family was more influential than his?!

Ha.

Meanwhile, Arkai reached the office door.

His hand found the handle. He turned it without thinking, without knocking, just as usual. His mind was still elsewhere.

The door swung open.

And Arkai froze on the threshold.

Inside, laying on the sofa, was Cecilia Araceli.

She had taken off her uniform jacket and draped it over her legs, covering them from mid-thigh to ankle. The fabric pooled over her skirt. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was slow, steady, peaceful.

She was asleep.

Asleep.

In the student council office. On the sofa. Alone.

Her hair fanned out beneath her head like spilled gold. Her lips... those... lips... were slightly parted, soft in repose. Without the sharp awareness of her waking gaze, without the terrifying precision of her words, she looked almost... vulnerable.

Almost.

CLICK.

The sound registered in Arkai’s consciousness a full second after his hand had already made it.

He had locked the door.

Before he could process why, before he could question what instinct had driven that movement—

"What’d you lock the door for, man?"

Arkai jumped.

The voice came from behind the president’s desk. A figure rose from the floor, a stack of papers in his hands, his expression one of genuine confusion.

Roarke.

His best friend. His right-hand man. Sitting on the floor behind the desk, hidden from view until this moment, apparently organizing files from the lower drawers.

Arkai’s brain stuttered.

What was Cecilia doing here?

What was Roarke doing here?

What were they doing here—together—just the two of them—

His eyes snapped back to the sofa. To Cecilia. Asleep.

And Roarke, standing there with his papers, looking at Arkai like he’d grown a second head.

"Arkai?" Roarke’s brow furrowed. "You alright?"

Arkai’s jaw worked, but no words came.

His eyes moved between them. Cecilia on the sofa, Roarke by the desk and a thousand questions collided in his mind, none of them answerable, none of them appropriate.

What was Cecilia doing with Roarke in the student council office?

Just the two of them?

Just the two of them?

Heat rose to his head.